Oh!
by Shreiking Beauty
Summary: Johnlock. People see it. They say "oh". Kinda dumb but whatevs


**Dis is probly crap but I wanted to do it. It's mostly just a test to see if I can upload FanFiction with this word processor, so if you're reading it, it worked!**

**Johnlock & established Mystrade on the side. Just a thought that popped into my head. And with all the jokes about it on the show why don't they just Johnlock already?! I'm American so the language may be a bit different. R&R!**

_Oh!_

_It's easy to see when you know what you're looking for. And when you see it, you might just say "oh" . . . _

_Who does Sherlock love? Who does he look to when he needs something? Who does he go to for companionship? Who does he protect with his life and in turn counts on for protection? The answer is John Watson._

_I've known Sherlock for ages. Never has he looked that way at anyone before. You'll notice it, I'm sure. He looks at him with such slight amusement, like his inferior intelligence is adorable rather than irritating like everyone else. Just look. You'll see the corner of his mouth turn up ever so slightly. His eyes will light up just a little bit. And if that isn't obvious enough, you'll notice how he rarely looks at anyone, often even when speaking to them. But he looks at John. They look into each others eyes and for a moment, it's just the two of them in the world. Just look. You'll see it. And when you see it, you might just say "oh" . . ._

Mrs. Hudson hummed curiously to herself as she read the little comment under John's latest blog. Sure, she thought they seemed like a nice couple, but she had never really _searched_ for the signs that they were in love. She got off her dinosaur of a computer and climbed the stairs to check on her boys.

John was sipping tea and looking at his laptop at the desk, and Sherlock was busy dissecting something.

"Morning, boys!" she said cheerily.

"Hello Mrs. Hudson," John greeted her politely.

"Hello, Mrs. Hudson!" Sherlock said, smiling up at her momentarily before going back to his work. "What brings you up here?"

"Oh, I was just going to join you for a cup of tea, if you weren't busy."

"Not at all," John said, gesturing for her to sit down. "I'll go pour you a cup."

"Oh, thank you, how nice."

"You want one, Sherlock?" he asked, looking at him. Sherlock looked back at him and their eyes met. And there it was: the tiny lift at the corners of his mouth, the twinkle in his eye, the mild amusement.

"None for me," Sherlock replied.

"Oh!" Mrs. Hudson gasped. They both looked at her curiously, but she just giggled a little and picked up the newspaper.

Three hours later, the two men stood in Lestrade's office, going over a new case. They were interrupted as #$%^&* came in the door.

"Hello Dr.," she greeted. "Freak." She handed some papers to Lestrade and made to leave, stopping for a moment. John looked pitifully at Sherlock, who returned a nonchalant glance. And it was there: the mouth, the eyes, the amusement, it was _there_.

"Oh," she breathed. All three men looked at her curiously. She gave Lestrade a meaningful look and gestured to the detectives, who looked at each other curiously.

"Oh!" Lestrade said in realization.

"What? What is it?" John asked suspiciously.

"Nothing," they both replied, going back to business with a knowing smile.

Less than an hour later, John paced around the lab while Sherlock examined something through a microscope, announcing his findings out loud. Molly stood in a corner, working on something else and peeking longingly over her shoulder once in a while at Sherlock.

"Maybe," John mused aloud, "it wasn't a murder. Maybe it was a suicide made to look like one!" Sherlock looked up at him tiredly.

"Alright, explain to me how he shot himself in the back of the head and somehow got rid of the gun?"

"Oh . . ." Molly breathed sadly. The men looked at her pointedly, but her eyes started to water so she put her head down and rushed out of the room.

"Okay, that's the fourth time that has happened today," John said sternly. "What the hell is going on?"

"I have no idea . . ." Sherlock answered quietly. "In any case, I'm sure it's hardly of significance. Come along, we need to pay Mycroft a visit."

A short cab drive later and they sat on a couch in front of a fire talking to Mycroft. He sat smirking in his armchair as he watched the two; Sherlock fiddling around on his phone while he asked questions, and John looking back and forth between the two like he was watching a show. On the small couch their thighs were touching, and Sherlock had to keep his left elbow close to his side to keep from hitting John. Mycroft's smile widened and he purposefully didn't point out that there was another perfectly good chair available.

Just as they were about to exit the front door, they shared the look, the look that said "ready to go?" with a subtext of "I love you".

"Oh," Mycroft said adoringly.

"Alright, what the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?" John asked him suddenly.

"What's what supposed to mean?" Mycroft replied innocently.

"You are the fifth person that's done that today! You say "oh" like you've just realized something and then you act like nothing's happened. What is it?"

"Do you read the comments on your blog, Dr. Watson?"

"What?"

"The comments, on your blog. Do you read them?"

"Occasionally," John said, getting irritated.

"Well, perhaps you ought to read them more often. Ciao!"

As soon as he got home, John made a beeline to his lap top and searched his comments. It wasn't hard to find the one Mycroft had been referring to. He read it over and scoffed at it's ridiculousness. But then, he read it again. _No, of course not,_ he thought. Then he read it again. He looked at Sherlock, who looked up at him and gave him a small questioning smile.

" . . . oh." Sherlock frowned and cocked his head to the side.

"Not you, too!" John just sat with his mouth hanging open stupidly. Sherlock got up and walked over to him, and he slammed his laptop shut. "What is it? Let me see it!"

"No, no, it's nothing! Really!" John insisted. Sherlock pried the computer from him and opened it to a password screen.

"Really, John? As if I couldn't hack this?"

"Sherlock, give it back! It's nothing you need to be concerned about! Just you go on with your experiments and I'll worry about these trivial things for you, okay?" Sherlock eyed him suspiciously, but gave him back the laptop and sat down.

Meanwhile, Mycroft sat at his own computer and looked at the comment he'd left. "4 people . . . that can't be coincidence."

"I still think it's one-sided," Lestrade said from the couch. "Trust me, John is very insistent that he has no interest whatsoever."

"Oh, come now, Lestrade. Even someone like you knows insistence is a way of overcompensating." They both laughed and headed off to bed ;).

**Alternate ending!**

"Sherlock," John said, getting the man's attention.

"What is it?"

"They know . . . the comment, the one Mycroft told me about? The reason everyone was saying 'oh' every time we looked at each other, like they were just realizing something! They know we're together!" Sherlock came up behind John and put his lips to his ear.

"Don't be absurd," he murmured in his sexy baritone. "They're stupid."

"That's not very nice," John said back.

"Come to bed with me."

"It's six o'clock, Sherlock, you can't expect me to sleep so early!"

"I didn't say we had to _sleep _. . ."


End file.
